


Healing Broken Pieces

by just_another_outcast



Category: The Physician (2013)
Genre: Father Figures, Fluff, Gen, Guilt, Hugging, Light Angst, Post-Canon, Reunions, light emotional hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2020-07-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:00:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25196581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_another_outcast/pseuds/just_another_outcast
Summary: There were many in the barber's life that he regrets, but none more so than letting Rob travel to the ends of the earth alone.  When fate finally brings Rob back into his life, the barber vows to make some changes, and be the father that the boy needs
Relationships: Rob Cole & The Barber
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Healing Broken Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> For now, this will be my final fic for this movie. There's a good chance I'll write more later, but I have made my contribution to this nonexistent fandom lol. As always, I hope you enjoy, and please leave a review!!!
> 
> Note: the barber is literally never given a name, so I just call him the barber lol

Part of the barber died that fateful day when Rob hopped off their wagon and headed for Dover, to travel to the ends of the world in search of higher learning. Part of him hated himself for not going with the boy. After's Rob's mother died, he'd basically adopted the boy, unwilling as he originally had been. It was his duty to look after him and protect him and the barber had squandered it because of his own stubbornness. The boy's dream was to become a great healer, and instead of ensuring that he made it to Isfahan safely, even if he didn't share the boy's desire to learn or his capacity for goodness, the barber had dropped him a mile from Dover without even telling the boy how proud of him he was. That day continued to haunt him every day for the next three years - or four years, however long it had been since he last saw the boy. Every moment without Rob was a painful reminder of his mistakes as the boy's surrogate father, because that's what he had been. He called himself Rob's master, called Rob his apprentice, but they both knew it went much deeper than that.

When that little boy in London spoke Rob's name - his surname, at least - the barber's heart soared. Could it have been possible that his boy was in London, essentially within arms reach? Throughout the last three years, the barber didn't even know if Rob was still alive. He could've died the day after the barber last saw him, and he would never have known. Fate had always seemed particularly cruel to the boy, stealing his father from him so young, then his mother shortly afterwards, then his siblings, and placing him in the care of a barber who had never sought a child for himself because he wasn't the right man for it. If nothing else, the barber had kept Rob alive and shown him love, in some form, and that had to mean something. He hadn't been the best father to the boy that he could have been, and he'd spent every day since last seeing Rob in agony over that fact.

The barber tried to glean as much information about Rob from the child as he could. The little boy had said that Rob was married now, and had returned with a plethora of Jews. Neither one of those things surprised him. Although Rob had never taken a woman - the boy had never fallen in love and was too Christian to sleep with a woman he didn't love - he had received a lot of female attention ever since he was a teenager. It was only a matter of time until Rob finally returned a woman's affections. As for the large number of Jews, the barber couldn't think of a reason why Rob would have returned with them, but it still didn't surprise him. From the way the child spoke about Rob, calling him "physician Cole" and referring to him as the one who led the Jews to England, it seemed as though Rob was in a significant leadership position. Pride swelled in the barber's chest at the thought. Even if he hadn't told the boy, he'd always known that Rob was capable of great things. As a leader, of course Rob would've helped a large group of people, even people who didn't share his faith. He was just that kind and loving towards everyone.

The child led him over to a large stone building, nearly a palace in its size - however, compared to his horse and cart, many things seemed the size of a palace.

"This is the hospital!" the young child excitedly told him. He grabbed the barber's hand and pulled him inside, leading him right up to a man in cleaner robes than the barber had ever seen on anyone. Everything inside the hospital was much more clean than the streets or any bath house or brothel that the barber had stepped inside. He wasn't sure that he'd even seen a church so clean. The man was clearly Jewish, his yarmulke and payot providing a clear distinction. "The barber needs to see Physician Cole!" the child told the man urgently, as if the barber were sick or injured and was in actual need of medical assistance. He had refrained from mentioning his relationship to Rob to the child, so perhaps that was what the little boy thought was going on. However, if that would allow the barber to see Rob sooner than the truth would, then he was more than willing to continue the farce.

"Are you ill?" the man asked him, looking him up and down. In his permanently disheveled state, it was likely a challenge to see if anything were wrong with him. The dirt and grime and ratty clothes would hide most everything. "And you say you're a barber?" he continued. The man stared at him quizzically, as if trying to put together ill-fitting pieces to a puzzle.

He smiled at him sheepishly. "Yes, I am a barber, I-." He broke off at the gasp that could be heard from across the hall. The barber turned to it, and the part of him that had been broken for so long finally started to heal. "Rob," he softly called out, almost afraid to believe his own eyes.

"Yes, that's Physician Rob Cole," the Jewish man said, still confused. The little boy started to speak, but the barber wasn't paying attention. He only saw the boy he'd missed for years.

Rob took a hesitant step towards him, mouth still agape and eyes shining bright. "You're here," he said.

The barber all but ran to him, quickly gathering the boy up in his arms as he should have done so long ago. Rob melted into the embrace as if they'd done it hundreds of times - the reality was that they'd done it less than five. His head fit right into the crook of the barber's neck, his arms wrapping around to his back and coming to grip his filthy clothes as if the barber would disappear if he let go. The more the barber thought about it, the more that seemed like a logical thought process for Rob to have. He held the boy tightly as tears welled up in his eyes. After those years of not even knowing if Rob were alive, holding the boy in his arms was the most emotional and amazing experience he had ever gone through. The barber had one arm around the boy's slim shoulders, and the opposite hand found its way into Rob's curls, holding the boy's head closer to him.

"You're alive," he choked out. Rob clutched him impossibly tighter. "And you're back." He held onto Rob for one more moment before finally breaking the embrace, but he couldn't stay completely disconnected from the boy. The barber kept a grip on Rob's arms, still holding him in any way he could. "Let me take a look at you," he added, smiling through his tears. The barber couldn't remember ever shedding tears of joy before.

He looked his boy up and down, noting that Rob was crying as well, but his smile was just as brilliant as the barber had always remembered it. It was a smile that made women swoon and the barber thankful for giving in and allowing the boy to become his apprentice. Though he wasn't much of a boy anymore. Rob had grown into a young man, out of his teens and apparently with a wife - the barber would have to ask about her. However, he would always be a boy to the barber.

"You never grew any taller, I see," he said in an attempt to distract from the emotional aspect of the situation. Rob laughed and fondly shook his head. The barber also noticed a new scar, right along the boy's hairline. It looked more than a year old, and healed well. Another spark of guilt hit him. Something had happened to Rob, and the barber hadn't been there to help him.

"No, but you've certainly grown grayer," Rob playfully jested with a swat at the barber's arm.

"I'll have you know that I can still get any woman I please," the barber replied in mock anger, though he was unable to keep the grin off his face.

"That's because you pay them," Rob said, still grinning himself. His eyes darted to the side for a moment, then he rested his hand on the barber's shoulder and gently turned him around. The little boy was gone, but the Jewish man was still there. "Mirdin!" he called out. The man walked over to them, a curious look on his face. He looked older than Rob, but not by much. "This is the man who raised me after my mother passed."

The man - Mirdin - visibly relaxed, and gave the barber a smile and offered a handshake, which he politely accepted. "Rob has said many wonderful and interesting things about you," he said.

"I'm sure he has," the barber admitted. There was a plethora of stories Rob could have shared about their time together, some more scandalous for the barber than others.

"Mirdin, would you mind finishing my rounds for me for the time being? I will repeat them later, but I think my old friend and I have much to discuss," Rob asked, ever the gentleman. No matter how hard the barber had tried to turn him into a scoundrel, he'd never been quite successful. Rob was as kind and polite as he'd always been.

"Of course," Mirdin replied with a smile, then walked off. Rob immediately turned back to him, and led him over to a bench by a window.

"Mirdin is my closest friend," Rob said with a fond smile. "We met on my first day of class, and he and his family were kind enough to take me in."

"So you made it all the way to Isfahan?" the barber immediately asked.

Rob nodded. "I did," he said. He then launched into a tumultuous tale of how he spent the last few years. He spoke of narrowly avoiding bandits and pirates, the uncomfortable start to his life as a fake Jew, a harrowing desert trip with sandstorms and a beautiful woman who he assured the barber would be very important later in his tale. It was only slightly nervewracking to think of his boy going through those things. Rob told him all about arriving at Isfahan, his initial rejection by a man who would later become a religious radical and try to have him killed - a thought which sent a stab of terror into the barber's heart, even though it was clear that Rob made it through alright - and finally being accepted by Ibn Sina himself. When he spoke of Ibn Sina, Rob's entire demeanor fell, the same way it did when the boy would speak in earnest about his mother or his siblings.

"You miss him?" the barber asked, though he already knew the answer.

"I do," Rob admitted. "He's gone. I will explain in more detail when it comes time, but he is truly gone. Ibn Sina not only taught me such amazing things about medicine and science and philosophy and so much else, but he was a father to me. It was a comfort. When I could not have you, I had him," he said. Rob shrugged his shoulders as if it weren't important, but the barber could tell how much the man had meant to the boy. Pushing down his jealousy at another man acting as the boy's father and his guilt at the fact that he chose not to be there with him, the barber moved closer to Rob and wrapped his arm around the boy's shoulders. It was an unfamiliar move, and his filthy clothes would only further stain Rob's much more pristine robes, but neither one of those things mattered in that moment. There were no words he could say that would help the boy, not even an assurance of meeting the man again in the afterlife. But the barber could sit there, and hold Rob close as he always should have. He could be the father the boy needed once again.

"I'm sorry," was all he said, but the barber truly meant it. It was all he could say, but he hoped it meant something. Rob gave him a sad smile and nodded, then dove back into his story.

He went on to detail the joys of learning under Ibn Sina and how they became more than a master and a student. He laughed when he spoke his adventures with Mirdin and Karim, who he sadly explained was also gone. But Rob's smile when he spoke of Rebecca spoke of someone who was truly in love, though his anger at the situation that Rebecca had been in was palpable. The barber grew inexplicably nervous once again when Rob told him about the black death and the amount of people who perished, although he couldn't help but be proud of the lad when he admitted the culmination of his relationship with Rebecca.

"I knew you had it in you," he joyfully exclaimed with a pat on Rob's backed. The boy blushed fiercely and looked away. "All it took was the right lady to finally make you give in." The barber had always had a feeling that he would never turn Rob into the womanizer that he himself was, but he had still always been surprised when Rob turned the women down every single time, not breaking even once. Perhaps it was something to be admired.

"Let's not," Rob pled with a smile, his face beet red. He continued with his tale before the barber could say anything else. The barber's nerves returned in full force when Rob admitted to taking a corpse and dissecting it, along with a spike of righteous anger. "I know, I know," Rob rushed out as the barber opened his mouth to chastise him. "But I'm alright. I'm right here, and I'm alright," he insisted. It was enough to calm the barber down, at least for the moment. Rob continued on, speaking on the interesting relationship he developed with the shah himself. Even without meeting him, the barber didn't like the shah or trust his intentions with Rob. He couldn't bring himself to care that the man was likely dead.

A pit formed in the barber's stomach when Rob told of his arrest. The boy turned away from him, looking at the ground and wringing his hands together at the memory. Rob had been terrified, that much was clear.

"I told you never to think of it," the barber reminded him, speaking of Rob's curiosity towards human anatomy. The boy had first brought it up in earnest not long before he left on his journey eastward, and the barber had attempted to shut down that line of thinking as quickly as he could. Long ago, the barber's friend had done just what Rob had wanted to, was found out, and burned at the stake. The barber hadn't been able to save his friend, but he would be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to save Rob, even if it meant pushing him away or appearing angry. He'd never been angry with Rob, only fearful for his safety. Of course, he knew that Rob would never attempt to divine the future through reading the entrails of the dead, but that wasn't how those in authority saw it. They would see a boy cutting open a dead body, and they wouldn't care that he was doing it in the pursuit of science. They would arrest him, then give him a torturous death by burning at the stake as a witch. The very thought of Rob undergoing that same torture made the barber shiver.

Rob looked back up at him, some fear still in his eyes, despite the safety of he currently enjoyed. "I had to," he said, his voice near pleading. "The man practically gave me his permission to use his body, and I knew there was so much I could learn, things I could use to help people, if only I did this. I knew what I was risking, and I was going to accept the consequences of my actions if I could not convince them otherwise." He continued to go on about his almost-execution, how he tried to save Ibn Sina from their wrath, and the revelation to others of his Christian faith, but he did so haltingly, as if he were skipping over more details than he previously had. The barber refrained from mentioning it. Rob was visibly uncomfortable talking about this particular near death experience, and he would respect that. All he could do was be there for the boy. He never wanted to leave Rob's side again.

Rob went on to explain how his life was saved by the shah, who had side sickness and believed that Rob was the only one who could save him. He was far too modest as he spoke of setting his terms for saving the shah - only if he would save Rebecca and their unborn child, both of whom Rob promised the barber would meet - and actually saving the shah with the help of Ibn Sina and Mirdin. That was an incredible feat, possibly the first time anyone had ever done it, and yet the boy was bashful and glossed over his amazing accomplishment with barely a smile for himself or a hint of pride.

"Rob, wait," he found himself interrupting. "What you did is amazing, nothing short of a miracle. God had certainly laid His hand on you," he said, more honest and sincere than he'd been in a long time.

"I didn't know you actually believed in God," Rob replied with a blush and a faint smile. He looked away, but the barber rested his hand on the boy's shoulder and gave it a light squeeze to reaffirm his words. Rob had never been particularly good at accepting compliments, perhaps in part due to the barber's own pride and unwillingness to provide them. That was one of the many things that the barber had cursed himself for during Rob's absence. It was one of the many things that he planned on changing with their relationship going forward.

The boy continued, going on to speak about the Seljuk invasion and their slaughter of as many Jews as they could. When he arrived in his story to Ibn Sina's passing, he grew somber and spoke slowly and clearly, as if he were doing his best to keep his emotions at bay. The barber gave his shoulder another squeeze and offered his condolences once more, since this man had evidently meant a great deal to the boy.

"Then, somehow," Rob continued. He took a deep breath, and seemed more at ease. "As we fled the city, I became the one that they were looking to. Not merely Rebecca and Mirdin, but Mirdin's family, our other friends, all of the other Jews who made it out of Isfahan, they were all looking to me. I know not why, but God had brought me through everything, even when I doubted Him and sinned against Him. I decided to trust Him instead, and brought them all back here. We built this together, and now I am able to help people, truly help them, every single day." He gave a slight shrug when he was finished, and offered the barber a small smile, ever the humble servant.

"You've done amazing things, my boy," the barber said with a brazen grin, giving Rob a light shake. "That's a tale for the ages, one to be passed down until it becomes the stuff of myth and legend, like our great King Arthur or Beowulf." He gave a hearty laugh and shook Rob's shoulder once more. The boy rolled his eyes, but finally gave a real smile as he shook his head. The barber calmed himself, and continued on, but with much more emotion and sincerity. "And I am proud of you, Rob. So very proud. These are truly remarkable things you have accomplished, the likes of which I have never heard in my life. You have far surpassed me in both knowledge and skill. You have made your country proud, and you have made me proud. There are many things in my life that I regret, but taking you in is not one of them. Letting you go by yourself to the other end of the world is, but you have survived and done such amazing things. And I am so proud of the man you have become." It was the most emotionally charged thing he'd ever said to Rob, but he meant every word of it. He'd never meant anything more.

Much like he always did, Rob didn't take the compliment well. The boy blushed and looked away, but not before the barber saw such shock and wonder in his eyes. The affirmation that he always sought was finally being bestowed upon him, and the boy didn't know how to accept it. The barber wrapped his arm around the back of the boy's shoulders and rocked him back and forth ever so slightly.

"You should be proud of yourself," the barber said, his voice low. He ducked his head just enough to catch Rob's gaze. The boy finally smiled and made eye contact.

"Thank you, very much," Rob softly replied. "That means more to me than you know." He spoke in almost a whisper. Rob gave him another smile and shook his head. "I suppose you'll wish to meet my wife now," he said, diffusing the emotion of the conversation. The barber noticed Rob glance down at the wedding ring on his finger. It looked relatively new, and was a beautiful band of gold. Either being a physician was much more lucrative than life as a barber, or it had been gifted to him.

"Of course, my boy!" the barber exclaimed with a wide grin. He stood and clapped Rob's shoulders. "Well let's go have a look at her!" Rob blushed again and turned away, but stood and gestured for the barber to come with him. "And your child too! A big strong lad or a beautiful little lassie?"

Rob laughed and led him down the hall, telling him all about his wife and wonderful child, and even offering to teach him everything he'd learned in Isfahan and let him stay there. The barber wasn't much of a learner, but if that meant he could hold a place in the boy's life once again, and be the father he should've been years ago, then he might just accept the offer.

That day was the start of a new beginning for the barber. It was the day that, after several years, his heart was finally starting to become whole again. It was the day that the part of him that had died was finally coming back to life.


End file.
